


100 Kisses More

by elephantfootprints



Series: Counting Kisses [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephantfootprints/pseuds/elephantfootprints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is determined to return the 100 kisses John gave him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	100 Kisses More

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the magnificent [Holes in the Sky](http://theresholesinthesky.tumblr.com/).

The second time Sherlock kissed John it was hesitant, just a quick press of lips before John left for work, just to see if he could. John’s brilliant smile in return encouraged Sherlock to pursue kisses three and four, somewhat more thorough affairs that led to John pushing Sherlock playfully away, laughing and complaining about being late.

The fifth time Sherlock kissed John was slightly more frantic. John had come home from the clinic in a rather cheerful and affectionate mood and Sherlock was lying on the sofa, eyes shut, thinking hard when he sensed John moving above him. John was moving in to kiss Sherlock when Sherlock opened his eyes and he had to sit up rather abruptly to kiss John before John could kiss him.

The sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth kisses were of a similar nature, John going to kiss Sherlock and Sherlock having to dive in to kiss John preemptively. Sherlock was getting rather good at reading John’s body language, working out when John was going to kiss him and thought he had it quite under control. Only Sherlock hadn’t allowed for how much John apparently liked kissing Sherlock.

Things were getting rather out of hand by the nineteenth kiss. Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, intently studying some dirt samples when John walked passed him, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to drop an absent kiss in his hair. Sherlock nearly missed the tell tale shift of weight and pressure and had to very quickly duck and twist and throw himself to the side to prevent John’s lips making contact. Before John could react, Sherlock straightened and awkwardly leant down to kiss John’s hair. It took John a few seconds to work out what on earth Sherlock had just done. When it clicked, he frowned, looking at Sherlock, worry etched in his brow.

“Sherlock, did you just make sure I didn’t kiss you?” John asked. Sherlock shrugged a little and looked down at his experiment. John sighed. “Look, I know I said you owed me one hundred kisses, but I didn’t _mean_ it. Not literally. I was just being, you know, flirty. Sherlock, look at me, yeah? You don’t owe me anything. You can kiss me as much or as little as you like.”

“I _know_ you didn’t mean it literally,” Sherlock said, sounding put out and embarrassed. “I was just being... romantic.”

“Oh,” John said. “Right, okay then. That’s a, nice gesture, I suppose, but-”

“John,” Sherlock said softly, “Can I- can I just have my hundred?”

John looked at Sherlock thoughtfully and nodded, smiling softly and reaching out to cup Sherlock’s jaw in his hand and letting his eyes flick down and linger on Sherlock’s mouth, licking his lips. Sherlock could read the invitation, the desire to be kissed, and he leaned in.

After this, the kisses came less frequently, Sherlock far more tentative about the whole affair. Twenty-three was a careful brush of lips after John made him tea. Twenty-nine a restrained peck when Sherlock felt he had been particularly brilliant, which John happily deepened, still amazed by Sherlock’s clever brain. Thirty-two was unexpected, a surprisingly tender lingering of lips over a bruise John received when he tripped over debris chasing a suspect down an alley.

“I thought you’d be cross with me for slowing us down,” John said.

“I would,” Sherlock replied. “But fortunately I am brilliant enough to compensate for your clumsiness and the suspect is about to run into what qualifies for Scotland Yard’s finest.”

John laughed, and caught Sherlock’s eye, and they sat grinning at each other. John let his gaze drop to Sherlock’s mouth, and Sherlock started to lean in, but then Lestrade burst around the bend to announce they had caught the suspect and Sherlock pulled away, closing himself off.

The second time Sherlock didn’t kiss John in public, was at the park. There was a dog and a coffee stand and John said something wry that left Sherlock unable to catch his breath from laughter. Sherlock had reached out a hand to brace his weight against John’s shoulder and been seized with the desire to kiss him, but then the dog had barked and Sherlock retracted his hand and offered a quip before walking briskly on, John having to jog slightly to catch up.

The third almost-kiss in public was at Angelo’s, after a fair few glasses of wine had been shared, and John had managed to get a smear of chocolate mousse under his bottom lip and Sherlock’s mind informed him kissing it clean was the best solution. A loud ‘pop!’ of a champagne bottle being opened the next table over made Sherlock remember where they were and pulled back, grabbing a serviette and thrusting it at John.

The next morning, John played over the nearly-kiss in his mind a few times and realised that he wasn’t going mad, it wasn’t just coincidence, Sherlock seemed to be continually stopping himself from kissing John in the presence of others, or, in fact, in places that weren’t 221b generally.

“You can kiss me in public,” John said awkwardly, when Sherlock emerged from his shower, looking absurdly fresh, though John’s words had left him comically frozen. “You don’t have to or anything, but if you’d like to-”

Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and pulled him out of the flat, into the street and pulled John in close, framing his face with his hands and dipping his head to brush half-a-dozen soft kisses against John’s lips, delighted when John laughed and said,

“Kiss me properly, love. Go on, give the neighbours a show.”

Not long after kiss number sixty-three came a case capable of keeping Sherlock’s interest, the kind of case he lived for. It was a delicious, serial killer style, possibly connected victims, improbable-murder-weapon style case that Sherlock threw himself into completely. 

The whole flat became a dedicated shrine to the murder’s brilliance, Sherlock frequently muttering, “brilliant”, “oh, that’s clever”, or “neat, very neatly done” as he looked over the case files, the photographs and sketches. John was pleased to see Sherlock so excited, so involved in the case, and relished in his own role as someone to bounce ideas off, asking pertinent questions and encouraging Sherlock to take new approaches. Inevitably, of course, it also fell to John to make sure Sherlock ate occasionally, and to remind Sherlock that these were real people they were considering, but he secretly rather enjoyed fussing over Sherlock, letting Sherlock give up on the tedium of life and turn his genius mind to the problem at hand. 

The entire affair would have been a perfect few weeks, a fantastic blog entry, and something to look back on fondly in retirement except for one thing. Sherlock stopped kissing John. Sherlock stopped showing or responding to any kind of affection. Sherlock barely acknowledged John, demanding John not leave his presence, but ignoring him. John was used to it, understood and accepted that about Sherlock . But he hadn’t expect Sherlock to cut him off like this. He missed curling up in bed with Sherlock, being kissed after handing over tea, and it _hurt_ when Sherlock pulled away from an affectionate hand in his hair or brush of a hand down his back. 

Nineteen days after Lestrade had called Sherlock, Sherlock solved the case. 

They were standing around what appeared to be an innocuous picnic table and Sherlock was streaming out words faster than anyone could process. At the blank stares he received, Sherlock threw his head back and muttered quite loudly, “I am surrounded by imbeciles.”

He walked over to Lestrade, eyes bright and said, “Their mothers, all of their mothers knew each other when the girls were young. Find their mothers and your killer will be someone who was with them at the time, not a father, and with whom the mother ended the relationship shortly afterwards.”

Lestrade’s eyes widened. “Christ, I know who it is.”

Lestrade dispatched a team to go after their killer, and Sherlock clapped his hands gleefully, delighted by his own cleverness. He whirled around to find John, marching up to him and putting a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. John shoved him roughly away and hissed, “ _Sherlock_.”

Sherlock withdrew immediately and flattened, quite crestfallen at the unexpected rejection.

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” John murmured. Sherlock kept glancing at John as they wrapped up their side of the case, but managed to avoid dragging John off to demand what was wrong.

“You said I could kiss you in public,” Sherlock accused, as soon as they stepped inside.

“Yeah, when we’re out to dinner or walking in the park or one of us has nearly died again,” John said. “Not when we’re at _work_. As if it isn’t bad enough that everyone thinks I’m just your assistant, if you start kissing me in front of them they’ll start to think that all I’ve got going for me is I don’t mind having sex with you.”

“But... you don’t?” Sherlock said, confused.

“That’s not the point, Sherlock,” John said. “I don’t want to be thought of as someone you keep around to sleep with. I want to be respected, I want my contribution to be acknowledged.”

“ _I_ appreciate you,” Sherlock said. “I’ve told you before you are invaluable to my work.”

“I know,” John said, softening. “I’m sorry, I just- it’s hard.”

“If they can’t see you’re an essential part of the process than they are idiots,” Sherlock said. “And I don’t want you wasting time worrying over impressing idiots.”

John gave a small smile, but sighed, thinking over how hard the last few weeks had been. 

“It’s not just that,” John said.

“What then?” Sherlock said.

“You cut me off, Sherlock,” John said. Sherlock frowned, confused.

“You were involved in every deduction I made,” Sherlock said. “I could not have solved the case without you.”

“I mean emotionally. I don’t mind that you want your hundred kisses, but you can’t just stop... being in a relationship with me when a case comes up.”

“John I-” Sherlock said. “I can’t concentrate on solving the case and being affectionate towards you.”

“You don’t even have to be affectionate,” John said. “You just have to let me!”

“It’s distracting,” Sherlock said. “It takes up too much room in my mind.”

“Yes, well, I find it distracting too,” John said. “We’ll just have to find a compromise, something that works for both of us. Because I can’t have you cutting me off like that Sherlock. I can’t stand it and it’s not fair to expect me to.”

Sherlock gave a short nod.

The next morning John was surprised to find a fresh cup of tea thrust at him when he stepped out of the shower and a Sherlock leaning in to give him a slightly awkward kiss.

“I apologise,” Sherlock said. John sighed and put the cup down, looking at Sherlock seriously.

“I’m sorry too,” John said. “It’s not fair to just assume you’ll know what I need or what I’m comfortable with when I don’t talk to you about it.”

“I also have a solution,” Sherlock said. 

“Yeah?” John said.

“When I am concentrating my brain power on solving a case, I naturally give up on those parts of life that distract from this,” Sherlock said.

“Like eating and sleeping?” John said.

“Exactly,” Sherlock said. “And you have somehow managed to find a way to ensure I do these things without diverting my attention too much. I think it would be agreeable to both of us if you bestowed affection and remind me to reciprocate when you think it necessary. Your involvement in the case places you in a position where I can trust you to know when it would be most and least appropriate to do so.”

“Okay,” John said carefully. “I can work with that. You do realise that I won’t just know what’s going to be a good time for nagging you, yeah?”

“Of course not. On the first case you will be too cautious, the second not cautious enough.” Sherlock paused, glancing away briefly before turning back to look intently at John. “It would be hardly fair for me to expect perfection from you. I’m- grateful you’re willing to compromise on this. I know I’m hardly an easy romantic partner to have-”

“Sherlock,” John said. “It’s fine. We’ll just- work through this, and the next problem and try not to get killed in the meantime.”

 

When Sherlock requested that twenty kisses be used for experimental purposes, John was only surprised that Sherlock had waited this long.

“For the purposes of this test, you will need to be naked,” Sherlock said calmly, steering John into their bedroom and starting to remove John’s clothes. He pushed John’s hand away when John went to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt. “I do not need to be naked as well.”

John laughed. “This is starting to sound less fun,” he said, but started to remove his trousers anyway.

“It’s not meant to be fun,” Sherlock said primly. “It’s _science_.”

“ _Naked_ science,” John said. “Which is a whole different business, and much more fun than it’s counterpart.”

“Lie down,” Sherlock ordered. “Forensic pathology is a science that involves naked people and is rarely described as a fun science.”

“Naked _dead_ people,” John said. “I think there should be a rule that if I am naked in our bed waiting to have a kissing experiment performed on me, you are not allowed to talk about cadavers.”

Sherlock said down on the bed beside John, resting a hand on John’s hip so he could lean down, bringing his lips close to John’s. “I’ll be kissing now, so there will be no talk about anything at all.”

“Yeah, right, not even kissing shuts you-” John said, words cut off by Sherlock bringing their lips together for a more thorough kiss than Sherlock tended to give. He moved down to nuzzle below John’s left ear, licking, nipping and sucking in one long kiss that left John groaning. Sherlock repeated this on the same spot below John’s right ear, and again just above each of John’s collar bones, at the juncture where shoulder met neck. His hands moved lightly up and down John’s sides, almost as though exploring them, looking for the best spots. He licked a long strip up one side and dragged his tongue down the other. Sherlock’s exploration proved fruitful, as the two kisses he gave left John panting.

“ _God_ , Sherlock,” John groaned. Sherlock smiled to himself. 

He reached out to brush his fingers over the inside of John’s left elbow, leaning in to kiss it softly and repeating the action on the right, this time eliciting no reaction from John. Sherlock slid down the bed and pressed a kiss into each of John’s hips, enjoying the softness of the muscle and fat burying the bone, and the proximity to John’s rapidly growing erection. He slid further down to lift John’s knees, stroking the undersides and giving each a small kiss.

“I don’t know that knees and elbows are your best weapon with me, Sherlock,” John said. Sherlock ignored him and kissed each of John’s insteps. “Not a foot man either, unless you fancy giving me a massage.”

Sherlock moved back up, shoving John’s legs apart and kissing the inside of each of John’s thighs, right up where it met the groin. He glanced across to see John’s cock twitch and dropped a kiss on it before licking along the length, then taking it into his mouth. John’s hips bucked up slightly and Sherlock held him down.

After John climaxed, Sherlock dropped another kiss on John’s softening penis, nuzzled his belly and gave it a nip and a kiss before sitting up, looking satisfied. 

“It wasn’t really an experiment, was it?” John said, sitting up and moving behind Sherlock to curl around him, nuzzling Sherlock’s neck affectionately.

“I gathered a lot of data,” Sherlock said, slightly offended.

“That doesn’t make it an experiment,” John said. “Just so you know, if you ever want to strip me down, kiss me all over and give me a fantastic blow job, you just have to ask.”

“Why would I need to do that again?” Sherlock asked, lips curving into a teasing smile. “I have all the information I required.”

“Git,” John said agreeably. “Come on, I’m tired. Let’s go to sleep. Do you want me to finish you off?”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock said. “I don’t want to go to sleep yet, I have things to do.”

“Stay with me until I do?” John asked hopefully. Sherlock gave a put-upon sigh.

“Fine.”

Sherlock didn’t kiss John when he received his tea the next morning, but he didn’t always gives kisses in return for tea, so John didn’t think anything of it. Then Sherlock didn’t kiss John when he solved three cases in a row, which was more unusual as Sherlock usually felt like kissing after showing off. When Sherlock didn’t even kiss John during what was otherwise a rather tender bout of sex, John was left feeling out of sorts, and more than a little concerned.

“Sherlock,” John murmured to the lump next to him.

“Sleeping,” Sherlock replied. 

“I need to talk to you, Sherlock,” John said.

“Go ahead and talk,” Sherlock said, burrowing his head further into the pillow. John shoved him.

“I need to talk to you and have you awake enough to listen and respond,” John said. Sherlock moaned and sighed, but rolled over and sat up. “You didn’t- you stopped kissing me.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said softly. John waited for Sherlock to explain, but when he didn’t, John got a sinking feeling.

“Oh Christ, don’t tell me you hit one hundred and now it’s my turn again,” John said, sighing. “First of all, I haven’t been keeping count, and secondly I really don’t want to keep taking in turns who gets to kiss who.”

“No, I don’t want to do that either, ” Sherlock said. Then, quietly, “The last kiss was number ninety-nine.”

“So the next one’s one hundred?” John said. “And you’re keeping it? Trying to make it special?”

“You’re right, it’s stupid and arbitrary and I might as well get it over with,” Sherlock said, leaning over to kiss John, who put his hand up to cover Sherlock’s mouth.

“Kissing me is not to be something to ‘get over with’,” John said firmly. “You want a romantic one hundredth kiss, you can have it. But you need to do it soon and in the future please tell me these things.”

“But isn’t half the romance in the surprise?” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but living with you means the absolute last thing I need in my life is romantic surprises from you,” John said. 

Sherlock scowled. “Can I go back to sleep now?” 

“No, I-” John said. “Just, for future reference, I like sex to involve kissing.”

“You didn’t used to kiss much when we first started having sex,” Sherlock pointed out.

“No, well, back then I didn’t know how well you were coping with kissing, so I thought the combination might be too much,” John said. 

“Oh,” Sherlock said. John gave a rueful shrug and Sherlock lay back down, manoeuvring himself so he could wrap around John and they lay together silently, slowly drifting off to sleep.

John woke up the next morning to Sherlock kissing him. He kissed back eagerly, flipping Sherlock over and moving down to kiss Sherlock’s neck, making Sherlock shudder.

“Sherlock?” John said softly, brushing kisses along Sherlock’s collar bone. “I thought you were keeping number one hundred?”

Sherlock stilled.

“I was,” he said, trying to sound casual. “But it was getting rather counterproductive. And I’ve missed being kissed by you.”

John smiled and lifted his head to kiss Sherlock properly before saying, “Me too.”


End file.
